


coming home

by hyphae



Category: Well of Loneliness - Radclyffe Hall
Genre: F/F, Happy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-28
Updated: 2014-07-28
Packaged: 2018-02-10 18:11:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2034975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hyphae/pseuds/hyphae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Morton hadn't changed after all these years.</p>
            </blockquote>





	coming home

Though she had longed for the air of Morton it was too strange to be back. She had tipped her driver generously, and then the chariot was gone and she was alone with her bags, and David sniffing the ground at her feet. The familiar scenery of the hills and the manor seemed strangely distant to her on this day. She knew the unfamiliarity would fade, with time, and soon she would be as natural in this environment as she had been as a girl. 

"This is Morton, David, welcome home." Stephen picked up her bags and walked toward the manor. David looked up happily upon hearing his name, and trotted briskly beside her. 

The next moment, David had barked suddenly and darted ahead. "David...?" Stephen followed the yellow shape of the dog up the hill that led to the entrance of the manor. A figure in a billowing white dress stood there, in the distance. The bubbling of familiar laughter washed over her. Stephen felt the bags she was carrying fall to her feet with a dull thud, as her pulse quickened and the world looked to her as though through a haze. Her belongings forgotten, everything forgotten for a moment, she sprang forward... 

Mary Llewellyn straightened up from scratching David behind the ears, pulling her hands behind her back, and looking at Stephen with an expectant smile. The wind lifted the hems of her dress, and she seemed to Stephen more than ever to be an apparition, a vision of otherworldly beauty and grace. The rosebeds of Morton billowed behind her, a sea of red and yellow. The roses were doing unusually well this time of year...

Stephen came to a stop in front of her, her face red and breathing hard. A million words bubbled to her lips, too many, so that they caught on her tongue and wouldn't come out of her mouth. So it was that Mary was the one who spoke first. 

"Stephen." 

The word was electric down Stephen's spine and it snapped her out of her daze. "Mary- It is really you, dear, sweet Mary, but why- How- And why alone- "

Mary was looking to the side, one hand pressed to her lips, remembering. Then she replied, "I was the one who pushed Martin to admit it. I was terribly distracted in the days after you left, I kept going over the events, and I felt that something wasn't right. Martin was reluctant to talk about you, but I pushed, and one evening he admitted that he didn't believe you were really seeing Valerie Seymour either. Then after that... I had to see you, and everybody said you had left Paris, but I knew if I came here I'd be able to find you."

"So you know- Everything- What I did- "

"I hope you're not angry with me for coming so far, and against your wishes, I know. You sent me away because you believe you're an outcast of the world, and you didn't want to drag me down with you. I've just reduced all that effort to nothing, haven't I? But listen, Stephen- You are deserving of love, and companionship, in this world, and I- Well, haven't we both served in the war? I'm more than capable of carrying myself, if you're worried about that, I've been taking some herbs that Valerie recomended to me..."

She raised bright eyes to Stephen, smiling an embarassed smile when Stephen still hadn't reacted, "Of course, was I wrong? If you really want nothing with me, I'll be on my way with the next coach. I've had my heartbreak over you already, I'm sure I could do it again. But I couldn't bear the thought of you, alone, believing you were better this way..." 

And to Stephen it was almost like seeing her for the first time, strong, shining and unbreakable, like a rock in a turbulent sea, how could she ever have thought her weak and frail, unable to shoulder the ails of the world without a man? Tears rose to her eyes and she fell to her knees, the moist earth of the lawn soaking through the legs of her pant suit, and Mary gave a cry of surprise and rushed forward to hold her to her bosom, and Stephen wrapped arms around her, her too-large hands on small pale shoulders, and let tears run down her face. 

"I've been such a fool... Could you ever, ever forgive me?" 

Mary cupped both hands around her cheeks and raised her face to her, and kissed her on the forehead, like a queen blessing her knight and pulling her back into her graces, and to Stephen it was like coming home, again. "Of course... Of course, I'm so glad, I've missed you..." 

And she held Stephen like a child for a long moment, on the sun-kissed lawn that led up to Morton, while the wind whispered through the rose bushes and David lay nearby, looking but not fully understanding. 

\--

They took many evening walks through the garden and into the woods, by the pond where Stephen had fallen in love the first time, and talked about a great many things. Mary spoke of a small ceremony, just the two of them and a small chapel, and they would invite all their friends, and she would wear a white dress. Stephen had smiled and said, "Do you really think God would bless such a thing?" 

Mary had stared at her seriously and said, "Do you think He wouldn't?" 

Puddle loved Mary, naturally, and took great joy in showing her the ins and outs of Morton, and their merry voices could be heard in the kitchen from Stephen's study where she managed the trivial matters that owners of estates had to be concerned with. Some days Mary wanted to go riding, which delighted Stephen. The stables had been restored, if not to their former glory, then a subdued version of it, and Mary had taken a liking to a speckled mare whom she rode side-saddle around the yard, her summer dress billowing, and occasionally she would ask for proper riding gear and Stephen and her would ride across the moor and stop for a picnic while she told her about her childhood and of hunting. 

Mary spoke also of children, and the orphanages of Paris while they were there, and how nice it would be to have small feet running around the long halls. Stephen listened and thought of a young girl, long-legged and wide-shouldered with a strong jaw, who had wanted to ride and hunt and kiss pretty housemaids. She also thought of a man with wide shoulders and a strong jaw and hair like hers who read books alone in his study, and loved her with all his heart, and hid things from the woman he loved until it was too late. 

She looked at Mary and thought that their next story would be different.


End file.
